Worthless Savior
by Shadow's whisper28
Summary: They created me to save my creator. Did they not think I have feelings as well? Would they really just toss me aside, now that I have no further use for them? Oneshot.


**You can blame science class and an extremely irritating error message for this one. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Nintendo, I would make money for this.**

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I felt my brain being pulled into a full consciousness for the first time. I kept my eyes shut, feeling my lungs gasping for air. Why I was out of breath, I had no idea. My chest ached, every time I moved ignited a column of flame, burning away at my insides. My face felt raw and uncomfortable, my eyes wet. Had I been crying?

I felt myself shuddering on a cold surface that did nothing to stop the raging inferno in my torso. I wanted so badly to see the world, but was afraid of what I would see.

A sort of cough erupted from my mouth, bringing warm fluid out, like liquid metal. The fire in my chest now raged inside my fevered brain, willing me to stop the pain, somehow, some way.

But I was helpless.

In an effort to do something, I slowly began shifting myself up into a sitting position. It was a slow process. I moved a little, waited for the fire to die out, then moved again. I was frustrated with myself. I should've been able to move faster. My lungs were still gasping for air, my whole body shaking, but not once did I feel my heart beating.

Only after I was in what could be loosely considered a sitting position did I hear the voices. They talked swiftly and quietly, and I couldn't make out what they were saying.

One of my arms began to shake, and almost buckled. I turned my head to find my face covered in white-feathered appendage. A wing. Why hadn't I seen it before? I started to move it, but the fire erupted again as soon as I did.

When I gained control again, the voices were closer, and I could make out what they were saying. A deep voice that seemed vaguely familiar, and a slightly higher one that was very familiar. I tried to remember whose it was. When I figured it out, my eyes burst open with shock.

The voice was mine.

I shut my eyes again, blinded by the bright lights. The voices seemed to be talking about me.

"That's murder!" my voice hissed

"He'd die anyway. He isn't even real. I wouldn't even consider it murder." The deeper one reasoned.

"You said yourself he was alive! He saved me! Is that a way to treat a hero?" My voice retaliated.

"Pit, he didn't save you, you saved yourself. That thing doesn't have feelings or a life. It has your memories, your body, and now your old heart. Do you really want to watch what would happen if we hadn't switched your hearts?"

"No." My voice sighed. Were they giving up on me? Were they going to kill me?

My heart should've been racing, but I couldn't feel a thing. Was I really fake? Did I not have actual memories, actual feelings, an actual life?

I heard the door open, and reopened my eyes, slower this time. When they adjusted to all of the lights and machinery, I focused on the people, who were looking at me. Or rather, the person, unless you can count a giant floating hand as a person. The other person looked like me. He had the same wings I'd discovered moments previously.

The hand spoke. "It woke up."

The other me was staring at me with a mix of terror and sadness. He had his eyes fixed on my chest as it heaved up and down. His voice was barely more than a whisper. "He's dying. He's dying like I was."

"Then you know why it needs to go." The Hand's voice was soft and sympathetic, but it definitely was not directed towards me.

They were getting ready to kill me. I didn't want to die. My whole body shook harder. The Hand advanced. Steeling myself, I pushed myself up and ran.

It was like a thousand flaming needles had been shoved into me, all over. Like being wrapped into a blanket of fire and nails. My lungs begged for more air, gasping for more than they could possibly contain. My head burned on the inside, and every step was like pounding a hammer on it. I couldn't feel the wings that were on my back, so I didn't fly.

As soon as I started running, my vision was blurry, and the small cough turned into a constant hack that brought up blood with each spasm wracking my thin frame. It was luck that I made it out of the room at all. I'd shocked the Hand and the other me by jumping up, and it was only a sort of stumble that brought me around the Hand and out the door.

The hall proved too much of a challenge. I opened the first door I saw, shutting it behind me. I fell to the floor, leaving consciousness.

_I figured I was dreaming. The sounds and noises were muffled, and the coloring was almost in a sort of negative. The room was serious enough to convey it's tense air to me. There were people talking, arguing loudly across the room. Some were standing, others were sitting on furniture in the room. Not just couches and chairs, but also tables and any other available surface. Another person who looked like me was sitting in a chair, with two people on either side – their names were Peach and Link, I believe – either way, they both had a sort of grip on my look-alike's elbows, as though they were afraid he'd fall out of the chair. He probably would've, too. He was coughing up blood, breathing hard, and was pale, even in the negative light. The argument seemed to be about him, even though his condition prevented him from actively participating. _

"_It's primitive and dangerous!" Peach was saying from her post. _

"_It's the only thing that'll save him!" A swordsman retaliated. His name had to be Ike, though I could've sworn I'd never met him before. _

"_You want to create a clone of Pit and switch it's heart with Pit's, right?" This was from a woman elegantly seated on a couch – Zelda. _

"_That is the plan, yes." The Hand said. I remembered his name now. He was Master Hand. _

"_What are you going to do with this clone after? Leave it to die with a diseased heart on the side of the road? Try to care for it?" Zelda's tone was almost accusing. _

"_It's the only way to save him." Master Hand stated, as though this solved everything. _

"_We should ask Pit. It's his decision." A cloaked ball in the corner said. Meta Knight was what I knew him as. _

_Master Hand turned to the angel in the chair. "Well?" he demanded._

_Pit clearly wasn't thinking straight. He was shaking, blood dripping from his mouth, and eyes were half closed. "Sure." He whispered, voice cracking, shaky and uneven. _

_I almost began to panic as black closed in around my sight. _

The transition from seeing negative to regular again was strange, but my thoughts didn't leave much room for thinking about color. Did this mean I was the clone? The other me was not the other me, but the original?

I moved to sit up, but the fire came back, worse than before. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. I was completely tense, not moving a muscle, afraid the fire would come back.

My ears seemed to not hear as well. Everything was muted, I could barely hear myself breathing, still gasping for air.

I had to get out of the closet. I had hidden here for a while, but not much longer. Grasping the handle of the door, I pulled myself up, trying to ignore the flames in my chest. Leaning against the door, I twisted the handle, allowing my weight to push the door open.

I stumbled through the door and ran into Zelda. She jumped, and I frantically pushed away from her, using the momentum to propel myself down the hall.

I was burning again, inside and out. I could see the flames on the edge of my vision, but every time I turned to look, they retracted. I allowed my feet to carry me along, using habit that wasn't even mine to get outside. There was a forest ahead. If I could get there somehow everything would be okay.

My thought process stuttered to a halt. Everything seemed to sway and blur like some strange sort of liquid. The fire inside was gnawing at me, consuming me from the inside out. I could feel the wings now. They were two flaming sticks shoved into my back, weighing me down.

There was a call behind me. I twisted my head to look, but all I could make out were differently colored smudges. Almost gratefully, I stumbled and fell, allowing my burning body to lie still.

A white colored figure walked up to me. This had to be Pit, my creator. Maybe it was the fire, or just my muddled brain, but I was angry. How could he put me through this? Did he ever stop to consider what would happen?

Pit had appeared close, but it took him a minute or so to approach me, and when he finally made it, he seemed to be breathing hard. Still recovering, I supposed.

"I'm… I'm sorry." He gasped out. That made me furious. I didn't want his pity, I wanted to live!

"How can you be sorry?" I snarled through gritted teeth. "You aren't the one dying."

It was then the flames burst out from inside. They licked at my skin, burning me completely. I cried out, just for that one moment, allowing my pain to sink in to my creator. He touched my arm, very delicately, as though remembering the pain.

After what seemed like an eternity, the fire began to fade. Pit's touch began to fade, too. I realized I had my eyes closed. I opened them to complete blackness. I couldn't see anything except myself. Curiously, I held up a hand. It appeared to be glowing.

I could feel the wings on my back now. I could use them as easily as my creator could use them. I sighed. If this was the afterlife, it wasn't so bad.

My eyes closed, and I could finally sleep in peace.

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**So, if anybody didn't get it, Pit's clone died. I thought about writing another chapter, but I don't know. Read and review, no flames. **


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